Sleep
by bellarke
Summary: It had been a week, and he couldn't sleep. He could only see her on the ground.


_**A/N:** My first shot at writing Lindstead! I love the dynamic these two have. There's so much potential and so much story to tell between the two of them. I hope you enjoy this. Warning for those sensitive to the topics of domestic abuse; there's nothing graphic, just allusions to it and one or two sentences that may upset you. That is not my intent! x_

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><p><strong>Sleep<strong>

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><p>Jay couldn't sleep.<p>

It had been a week.

The operation had gone real awry, real quick. They'd gone in when they heard the first shot fired at the hostage – a waitress friend of Lindsay's who'd stumbled into the situation. Lindsay went in first and he followed her, like he always had. He hadn't even thought.

They were outnumbered. They took him down first, started beating on him and then handcuffed him with his own cuffs. Lindsay was corned on the other side, and she'd held her own pretty well to begin with. He could only watch, struggle to get his hands free, listening to the sounds their fists made as they hit her.

She'd taken one hell of a beating.

The rest of the team showed up minutes later. After the bastards were taken care of and Lindsay's friend was out of harm's way, Ruzek rushed over to free Halstead from his cuffs. He just stared at her on the ground, barely moving, turning her head to Voight as he kneeled next to her and touched her face.

It had been a week, and he couldn't sleep. He could only see her on the ground.

It was a half hour later when he was knocking on her door. It was one in the morning, roughly, and he just needed to make sure she was okay. They were partners. He _cared_ about her. Of course he did. He just hadn't realized how much, and how fragile she was. Lindsay was one tough woman, but sometimes something – or someone – got the best of her. Jay balled his fists; his knuckles turned white and he was about ready to put his hands through the walls in the hallway, but then he heard her door start to open.

He wheeled around. She had a cut on her cheek, with bruising around it. She raised her eyebrows when she saw him there, before wincing and touching her brow bone. There was some bruising there too.

Jay hadn't thought about what he was going to say. He figured the words would come naturally when he saw her; they usually did. It was so easy to talk to her – banter, flirting here and there and sometimes, more frequently now, the more personal stuff. But seeing her now… he just didn't know what to say to make her feel better. And he didn't like himself much for the thoughts going through his head.

She was wearing a bath robe, one of those short silk ones. It was open a little over her chest. He could see the edge of a bruise coming down from her collarbone. The tie of the robe wasn't done up tight; she was wearing a black bra and she didn't even seem to care that he could see it.

'What do you want, Jay?'

She always called him Halstead. Except when it mattered.

'I'm sorry.'

'For what?'

'For not… that I didn't... I'm just sorry.'

She shook her head and backed up into the apartment, leaving him room to come in.

'You couldn't do anything.'

'I would have.'

They came face to face in her living room, and she smiled at him. She nodded. She knew. He tried hard to keep his eyes on her face, and not at the split in the robe across her chest and stomach and every other part. He struggled not to look at her bare legs; he'd never seen this much of her before. He'd dreamt about her, but nothing compared. She chuckled, then winced and put her hands on her ribs. Jay reacted, reached out and tried to help. His hands were on her waist and he lost himself in his thoughts. And his feelings.

'Erin.'

It came out in a whisper. She kept her eyes downward as she took his hands in hers and sat them both down on the couch. She pulled her legs up and tucked them under a blanket, then leaned back against his chest and nuzzled into it. He still didn't know what to say, so he kept quiet, gently wrapped his arms around her and, when he woke up the next morning, he realized he'd finally slept. He knew that, after this, having to sleep without her in his arms was going to be tough.

'You're still not driving,' she mumbled, snuggling in closer, lacing her fingers through his.

He chuckled. That was fine by him.

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><p><em>Revieeeeew? x<em>


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